


I Mean It

by Kmaxwell1997



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2019-08-11 06:31:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16470515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kmaxwell1997/pseuds/Kmaxwell1997
Summary: Negan hypes you up before you go inside.





	1. Chapter 1

The sweat beads on your dirt ridden forehead once again as soon as you wipe it away, smearing the speckles of dust about your forehead. The sun is beginning to set as the shades of yellow transition to hues of bright orange. You feel the sweat dripping uncomfortably down your back and chest as you helplessly move the shovel down and around. You stop your movements to lean your body weight against the small, wooden pole of your shovel, collecting your thoughts. Blinking the sweat rapidly from your eyelashes, you once again wipe the back of your hand against your forehead, breath heaving in exhaustion. Just as your eyes begin to flutter from becoming lightheaded, you hear another shovel slam aggressively against the ground beside you, startling you with a jump.  
“FASTER! No resting during work time, princess!” An angry, raspy voice snarls by your ear.  
You look to see none other than Tony, face smug with a sadistic grin plastered on his sun tanned face. He rubs a hand in his black beard, roughly scratching it as you grip the handle of your shovel tightly.  
You feel a hand snake around your waist and you immediately tense up, turning to look at him. He pulls you closer to him as you struggle in his grasp.  
“Please, just let me work.” You mutter, eyes downcast in fear.  
“Well you didn’t want to work a second ago... you wanted...” at this he slides a hand lower down your back, “a break.” He purrs with a look of lust in his eyes.  
“I was j-“  
“No excuses, (y/n), you know I would love for you to take care of me later. If you don’t want to do the work here, I have plenty left elsewhere...”  
He begins to snake his hands closer to your thighs and you pull away fearfully, grabbing your shovel desperately and once again continuing your routine.  
“That’s a good girl. You know the drill. Do the work out here, work by sleeping with me, or sleep in one of these forever.” He announces as he motions to the half dug hole you’re working on.  
Labor, sex, or death.  
No the best options to choose from, especially since you were so fiercely independent in your prior group.  
It was odd to go from your amazing previous group to this. They killed all the men and took the women. Even boys were killed apparently. The women are used in human trafficking. Either forced labor by digging, getting sold off to other men, or death. There were auctions every month where the men could buy whatever girl could no longer work. No one wanted to be sold, but malnourishment was a big problem here. No one is fed more than once a day, and getting a mean once a day is considered lucky. An apple or orange is what you get every day, which doesn’t seem bad until you work. Digging in the sun all day with such little energy is impossible. It’s only a matter of time before you collapse and get taken to be sold to the men owners.  
Digging holes wasn’t all bad, it was just morbid. Countless times you’ve wanted to collapse from exhaustion, but you know it’d be death or worse for you. The women who are too weak to work are basically up for slaughter, their remaining time just an intermission of suffering until they are used up completely, drained of every resource. Apparently some girls aren’t considered good enough matches for the men in charge here. There are about two hundred men, and only about 25 girls left working, which means they are desperate for women. A few of them have already bought girls, some more than one, but a large amount do not have one yet. You’re terrified of being sold. As soon as you show signs of weakness, you’re pulled from working to be sold.  
Every day is nerve racking, knowing it is only a matter of time until you are sold off as a slave, carted away until you’re considered useless by the men.  
You look around as you continue digging, watching as the other girls do as you do. Many of them are healthier than you. After all, you have been here a significant amount of time, and a majority came after you.  
You hear a sudden thump sound, and look over to see a thin girl on the ground, clouds of dust surrounding her frail body sprawled across the dirt.  
Oh no, it’s Charlotte. She was here as you were captured, and she was always very nice to you.  
Just as you begin to approach her, you are shoved aside as men run bye.  
“Nobody touch her! Nobody move!” Tony shouts as he pulls out his handgun, aiming it towards the ground in a warning manner. Another man is checking her pulse while one kneels by her.  
“If she’s still breathing she’s mine.” The man kneeling remarks casually, and you furrow your eyebrows in fear and disgust.  
“She’s alive! Joe, you know she’s gotta be put up on stage it’s the rules!” The man checking her pulse whispers.  
“No but I want her! She’s a redhead and you know how much I l-“  
“It doesn’t matter how much you love to pound em, I’m gonna buy her because I have more money than you this week!”  
“That’s a dick move man! Fuck you!”  
“No, fuck you. You’ve b-“  
Suddenly a gunshot rings out to silence the conversation, and you look in horror at the girl. Blood is seeping from the side of her head as the men stare at her in shock. Looking from the girl to one another and then towards Tony, they both stand up in fear.  
“See, boys, I didn’t wanna have to do that to a hot piece of ass, but if you can’t stop fighting over pussy and follow the rules, you won’t be able to participate in auctions, Alright?” He finishes in a serious voice.  
They mutter acknowledgements as they return to their duty of guarding and supervising, guns still strapped to their hips.  
Your eyes remain glued on the girl before you. She hadn’t even done anything. She’d been killed just because those guys were fighting over her.  
You flinch as you feel a presence approach you from behind, mouth close to your ear.  
“Now, I would keep digging that hole there before I decide I want you to make me another one for you. Oh, and put the hot piece of ass in there when you’re done.” He whispers, sinister tone attacking your ears.  
You are frozen in place, mouth agape as you listen to him and process the recent events.  
“Excuse me, aren’t you forgetting something princess?” He shouts angrily in your ear again before you snap back to reality.  
“Yes, my pleasure, sir.” You fearfully whisper, voice hushed in terror.  
You can feel him smiling on your shoulder as he places a kiss on your cheek. You turn away immediately as he sadistically laughs, walking to leave you to work again.  
You continue shoveling as you focus on the hole in front of you, eventually laying the girl to rest after your work is finished.  
The sky is a mix of orange, red, and a deep purple by the time you are finished, body dripping completely in sweat as you head back to the barracks with the rest of the women. Your ripped jeans cling to your thighs, drenched in sweat. Your black tank top could practically be wrung out to dry.  
When you reach the barracks, your shovels are collected in exchange for a piece of fruit. This time around, it’s a single wrinkled grape. You pick up the purple circle, dotted with brown and dusty.  
“Are you serious? That’s the third day in a row we’ve had a grape.” One of the women shouts from behind you angrily.  
“If you don’t like it, you can join your redheaded friend back at the pits.” The guard calls out aggressively as he leads you all inside. As soon as you are herded into the small quarters, the men turn around and shut the doors behind them. You hear the familiar clicking of the locks in place, and go to your bunk. They’re all wooden, with a small blanket and pillow for each. They are stacked next to each other, so you all get to know each other well.  
When you all turn your lanterns on, you can see a brunette girl whimpering in the dim lighting. You can’t see who it is I’m the lighting, but another woman named Tina approached her with consoling arms.  
“I’m sorry, Emily. I’m so sorry.” The woman whispers, rubbing small circles around the girl’s back.  
“I just can’t believe she’s gone... I couldn’t even help her. Why would they do that to Charlotte?” She cries, slowly being led back to her bunk by the other woman.  
You bite your lip and furrow your eyebrows in empathy. They were bunk mates. You’d lost your bunk mate a long time ago. She was always the sweetest person, warm smile. She never gave up. You hope she is alive, but you honestly don’t even know who is alive and who isn’t. The men keep the girls they buy locked in their rooms, no escape. You never see or hear from them again unless you burt them. So far you haven’t seen her, but who knows if they haven’t killed her and hidden her body.  
You hear her cries subside as you approach your little cubby. You grab your nightshirt. Every girl is required to wear one at night. You’re not sure why it’s a rule, but you don’t want to sleep in your sweaty jeans, so you go with it. It’s a white T-shirt looking dress that goes to your mid thighs. On the last day of the month, your clothes are all washed and you have the day off. It’s the only free time you have, all the women still remain locked in the barracks, but you get to socialize with each other and get a decent amount of rest, which is rare. You dream of that day every month.  
As you slide your jeans off one leg at a time, you grab the wooden beam for support. Lifting your shirt over your head, you look down at your body. You’re almost unrecognizable from who you once were. Your ribs poke through your stomach. Your collarbones are practically clawing out of your skin. You look malnourished, frail, weak. Shaking your head and sighing, you grab your nightshirt and slip it over you. Baggy and loose, it looks so many sizes too big. You life your bottle of water from beside your pillow and take a sip. As the liquid touches your throat you release a sigh of relief.  
You see it down and unstrap your bra, laying it on top of your folded jeans and shirt. You let your hair down from your braid, the kinky broke locks toppling over your back and didn’t your chest. You grab the chain of your necklace and close your eyes. Your sister got it for you. It is a small anchor charm on a silver chain. Now discolored because of the sun, it used to be a radiant, shiny silver. Splotches of rust now adorn the once elegant charm. To you, it’s still as beautiful as it was when she gave it to you on Christmas. You hold it in your fingers and talk to her.  
Hey sis. Today was rough. I’m not sure how much longer I can go on. I miss you. I really really miss you. If you were here you would have totally beaten Tony’s ass. You would have saved Charlotte and known how to comfort Emily. You always knew the right thing to do. You always knew how to make everything alright. I wish you weed here. Actually, that’s a lie. I don’t want you HERE here because it’s miserable at this stupid camp. Camp Mercy? It’s a big lie. I wish I would have trusted you when you wanted to take us somewhere else instead. I wish I would have listened. I should have been with you when you were attacked. I wish I could have taken your place. I just wish I wasn’t here. I don’t want to be alive. I want to be with you. Please, I love you. Let it be fast and painless so I can see you again.  
You end your thoughts and let go of the charm.  
You furrow your eyes as an eerie feeling encompasses your body. You feel as if you’re being watched. As the chain hits your chest, you focus on the loud thumping of your heart speed up.  
You are startled from your thoughts as you hear a loud bang. You jump as the other women continue talking and mumbling.  
You flinch again as you hear another shot.  
“Guys. Guys be quiet.” You announce seriously as you turn to speak to the women.  
“We’re not going to bed yet, (y/n). I still have to turn the lamps off.” The oldest woman and designated leader of the women, Jodie, comments as she watches the other women.  
You run up to her in fear.  
“No, no! I hear gunshots! I hear a bang sound.” You whisper as you hold a finger to your lips as a signal of silence.  
Suddenly the talking dies down and a silence falls over the room. You stare at Jodie as machine gun fire sounds off along with shotgun rifles. Jodie’s sure widen in a panic as you all try to figure out what’s happening. You can hear shouting in the distance of the men and you turn to Jodie. The shooting becomes closer and the shooting louder as Jodie begins to usher you away from the back of the barracks.  
“What’s happening?!?” You desperately cry out.  
“Get to the sides! I’ll distract them! Some of you can get away!” Jodie commands, a hand guiding you to the sides of the barracks.  
“Jodie, what’s happening?!?” You once again cry out.  
She felt like a mother to you this entire time. She is in her 40s, you a young 20. Looking out for you constantly, she treats you as one of her own.  
“I don’t know, but it’s not good. If I can distract them then some of you could maybe be able to get away if they’re going to try to kill us.” She calmly comments.  
“They’re coming to kill us?!?”  
At this she stops running and grabs your shoulders.  
“I don’t know, honey, just promise me you’ll try to escape if they hurt me.” She inquires, eyes glistening.  
Oh my god, you can’t lose her.  
“No! No, I can’t d-“  
She begins shaking your shoulders now, tears running down both of your faces.  
“Honey, you have to! Promise me!”  
“I promise.” You cry out, eyes flooded with tears as you cup her face with your small hands.  
“Everything will be alright. I love you.” She kisses your forehead and runs to help the other women hide in the sides of the barracks.  
“I love you...” you whisper, now to yourself, as you hide along the sides.  
“Amy! Natalie! Help me distract the guards. I can only hear two coming to the barracks!” Jodie calls out.  
Amy and Natalie are the next oldest, late thirties. Amy has pale skin but straight dark hair to her shoulders, very muscular. Natalie is black, her onyx hair cascading down her shoulders and back in beautiful braids, she’s thin, but strong. They go immediately to the front of the barracks. Just as they reach the front and the rest of you climb along the sides of the quarters, you can hear the fumbling of the locks being undone. You conceal yourself behind the large doors along the sides.  
You close your eyes as you hear the squeak of the door opening and the creaking as they swing open.  
“What are those sounds?” Jodie asks, feigning her helpless and scared side.  
“Where are the rest of the girls?” A man asks, his rough voice echoing through the walls.  
“Asleep.” Natalie calmly whispers.  
“Bullshit.” The other guard answers.  
“No, come see.” Natalie answers, leading the guards slowly back to the barracks.  
The sounds of gunshots echo through the barracks from the outside, closer and louder than ever.  
“Why are you here?” Amy asks, tension evident in her voice as they lead the two men back. You can see now that they are carrying rifles as well.  
“Well, we are here to take care of the witnesses.” One guard says.  
“Witnesses of what?” Jodie chimes in.  
“Camp Mercy.” The other guard announces.  
“I don’t understand w-“ Amy’s voice is cut off as one of the men raises a rifle and fires, hitting Amy. Chaos erupted as Natalie and Jodie immediately begin to try to tackle the men.  
“Run girls!” Jodie shouts as the rest of you begin to pile out from the sides and run out the doors. You hear another gunshot as Natalie screams, which is cut off by another gunshot. You don’t even bother looking back to see what happened. You already know. Tears stream down your face as you hear more shots echo around you. You see a girl to your right fall limply to the ground and begin to run faster. You have no idea where you are trying to run to, but you have to get away somehow. Anywhere but here. You hear your ears ringing as a shot grazes your head. Ducking and nearly falling, you continue sprinting, completely losing track of everyone else. Should you go to the pits?  
No, they’ll be there.  
The woods?  
No, you have no idea what’s in there.  
The building? Tony’s building?  
Absolutely not.  
A shot rings out next you you and you feel blood drench your forehead.  
Are you shot?  
You raise your hand and feel a sharp sting. It’s bleeding. You touch it again and feel a singeing pain, but nothing more.  
The bullet grazed you. Lucky.  
You hear more shouting behind you. You turn to look backwards but are jolted forward as a sharp pain pierced your shoulder and lifts you off the ground. You’ve been shot.  
There’s a lot of blood. You hold your shoulder and whimper, animalistic cries leaving your mouth as you bite your lip in pain.  
You turn to see none other than Tony approaching with three men. They’re all holding rifles and shotguns; however, Tony suddenly drops his and pulls out a sinister looking knife. It is curved at the top with an odd jagged part.  
You gulp loudly as you watch his eyebrows raise in a tease. It’s like watching a cat play with a mouse. He’s won, but now he wants his fun first.  
You scoot backwards, stumbling like a wounded animal as he walks menacingly towards you, a wicked grin across his face.  
He suddenly jumps on top of you, pinning you to the ground with a laugh. You struggle in his grip, and he in turn begins to cut your left thigh, tracing a mark up the side. You try to hold your scream but cannot, thrashing in agony of the searing pain coursing through you. He brings his index finger to your lips as he releases a gentle “shhhhhhhhhh”. You continue screaming until he puts your knife to your throat.  
“See, now that gets your attention. I get it.” He nonchalantly comments as he traces the blade delicately over your skin, taunting you.  
“You see, my time is up. Some pricks from another town are here, and we’re gonna lose all our shit. We’re gonna lose our livestock, our crops, our girls...” he adds as he brings his other hand to caress your cheek, the soothing manner a paradox.  
“Everything. We lose everything. Now, we’re gonna try to negotiate. Ya know, quid pro quo. The fun shit. But the thing is, these people are gonna take away the free pussy, which is a no go. So, I figured, if we can’t have you, then nobody can.” He gestured to his men as he holds the knife up, gleaming in the moonlight. If it weren’t for the horrible circumstances, you would think it’s beautiful. The shiny glistening of the blade hitting every perfect angle.  
You haven’t seen the stars in months. You haven’t seen the stars since you’ve gotten here. You wake up early, but the stars are gone by then and are corralled I’m before they come out.  
You look up to see the glistening small dots in the sky along with a full moon. It’s beautiful. It’s breathtaking.  
“Sure, princess, take it all in before it’s gone. It’s all gonna be over, but not for a little bit.” He motions to the knife he’s flicking back and forth to the air with a sickening grin.  
Your face completely relaxes in acceptance as he brings the knife closer to you.  
“Who knows, maybe I’ll get to have a turn with you after all, I’ve been waiting for a long t-“  
He is cut off as the men standing behind him lifelessly hit the ground in a storm of bullets. He ducks to be at your level, and you begin to scramble away. As he begins to come after you, you hear a loud voice echo.  
“HEY!” A rough, stern voice commands. It seems too familiar. Do you know this man? Tony freezes in his tracks as you continue backing away; that is, until your back hits something. You keep your gaze low but look to see leather boots switch jeans tucked into them. Your look higher to see a black leather jacket with a red scarf. He’s holding a baseball bat, but there is something glimmering on it, as if tinsel were strewn throughout the bat. A salt and pepper beard is forming on his chin, neck, and jawline. He is sporting a familiar smirk, eager eyes locked on Tony as he swings his bat over his left shoulder.  
Oh my God,  
That’s coach Negan.


	2. Sunshine

Oh my god.  
That’s coach Negan.

-

Your jaw drops to form an oval as you take in the sight of your savior. He looks practically the same, except for the silver hair strewn throughout his beard and hair, which he scratches playfully as he watches Tony in front of you.  
Will he recognize me? I mean, he helped with track for a little? He watched cross country races? He supported the sports teams. I was a senior when all of this went down, so I mean PE was three years before that when I was a freshman... but he did call me by a nickname... I mean sunshine isn’t exactly a special nickname but he said he could know your smile from miles away. He was always so incredibly nice, helping you begin a Latin club at school. Sometimes he was a substitute for that class, and he knew how much you loved it. He got it approved by the school board and you were ecstatic.  
UGH FOCUS.  
You watch as he struts over to Tony, who is now silent and trying to keep his composure, but you see him scrambling backwards on all fours in fear.  
A smile crosses your face as a clash of terror takes home in Tony’s eyes. You watch him freeze in place as Negan laughs, a long deep and intimidating laugh falling from his lips as he leans backwards slightly as if to emphasize it. You watch as he gently lifts the bat off his shoulder and leans it to face Tony. You look curiously at the sparkling silver on the bat. What is that?  
“Well, looky here... why the face? I didn’t piss in your corn flakes, this is all you buddy.” Negan approaches Tony, only a few feet from him as Tony helplessly analyzes his movements. Just as he attempts to negotiate, Negan interrupts.  
“Not gonna happen, Tony boy. I know what you’ve been doing here, and you just won’t quit. We don’t tolerate this kinda treatment of workers, especially women.” Negan sighs and traces the edge of the bat in the dust, delicately twirling it and creating patterns.  
“I can explai-“  
“What could you possibly tell me to save your sorry ass?” He angrily grumbles.  
“Just take her! She’ll be good! If you let me go you can have her. She’s clean. Fresh. No one has tried her yet, but I bet she’ll give you a good time. She was next to be sold anyway, but you can have her for free!” Tony begs, motioning desperately to where you lay in a heap on the ground.  
You realize with embarrassment that he’s going to try to give you as a gift to him as a sex slave.  
You cringe in disgust and furrow your eyebrows in confusion.  
He wouldn’t take the offer, would he?  
You watch with uncertainty as Negan motions to his men and they come to him and Tony.  
“Make sure he doesn’t move.” He mutters with a wink and a smirk. He suddenly turns to face you, but you are distracted by an animalistic cry. Looking towards the source, you see two long butcher knives have been stabbed through both of his feet, blood seeping from his shoes.  
It seems like he’s trying to look at you, really look at you, and you turn away in fear.  
“Alright, boys. What do you think of this deal? He soooo generously offered to just give me the fuckin gal. Well that is too kind of you.” He annunciates the last few words and you look up to see him smiling sarcastically at Tony.  
“Well, the thing is, this is mine. All of it. As soon as I shot down your men and decided to nail ya in place, this was mine. It’s been mine, which means everything here belongs to me regardless of whatever dickwad offer you try to skimp me on.” He commands angrily, lifting the bat to rest against his shoulder again as he stands merely inches from Tony.  
“Let me tell ya, Tony, I’m gonna enjoy this...” he mutters enthusiastically as he brings the bad down hard on Tony’s head with an ear shattering crack. Blood erupts from his head and pours everywhere as Tony falls limply to the dust. It is then that you recognize the thorn looking slivers of silver that are collecting blood and skin around the bat. Barbed wire.  
A cold chill runs through you as you imagine how horrible it must feel to be hit with it. You want to feel sorry for him, but you don’t. You feel almost numbed at the thought of him absorbing the painful blows that Negan continues to deliver.  
The cracking sounds turn to sloshing noises as time goes on. You’re not sure how long you’ve been spaced out looking numbly at the scene before you, but it feels like forever. You then begin to hear vague footprints.  
You have barely noticed Negan standing a few feet in front of you and you immediately remember the state of yourself. You wear a thin, white nightshirt that barely covers your ass. You don’t even have a bra on, and you are covered in blood, sweat, tears, and dirt. You cower from him in embarrassment and fear, wrapping into yourself as you scrunch your legs together and hide your face.  
“Hey now, hey. It’s okay, it’s over now.” You hear him whisper softly and jump slightly as you feel something brush your hair. “You’re okay. Did this asshole touch you?” He asks in a serious tone.  
You shake your head no and hear him release a long sigh.  
“You can’t tell me that after bein here for a long time that he didn’t harass you in any way?” He questions suspiciously.  
“Well, he did that stuff but he just never got to get his hands on me for that long.” You mutter anxiously, keeping your head down to avoid seeing him.  
“Come on, princess, look at me.”  
You don’t know why, but that sets you off. Hearing princess. It takes you back to every time Tony has touched you, every time he’s tried to take you away and hurt you. Your body jolts up and you jerk to face him.  
“Don’t call me that.” You apathetically state.  
He looks at you suddenly in confusion and apologetically as he puts his hands up as if to show he didn’t mean to hurt you.  
“Whoa there, I’m sorry.” He adds quickly, beginning to apologize.  
He shouldn’t apologize! He didn’t know! Jesus, what’s wrong with you.  
“It’s okay, Coach Negan.” You mutter quickly, not even realizing your mistake until it’s too late.  
He looks as if he’s about to speak but cuts off suddenly as he looks into your eyes. His eyebrows furrow and eyes squint, as if deeply analyzing you.  
You gulp loudly as he brings his hand up to his beard, scratching intensely, trying to pick out your name until it hits him. His hand moves to cover his mouth as he raises his eyebrows in shock.  
“(Y/n)?” He cautiously questions before you gulp deeply.  
You nod yes as you look to him with sorrowful eyes.  
He looks up at the sky as he releases as “Jesus Christ” and sighs deeply.  
Oh no, is he mad? He seems angry with you.  
“I’m sorry, coach, I didn’t me-“  
He suddenly engulfs you in a big hug, strong arms squeezing tightly around you in support.  
“Don’t be sorry, sunshine. Don’t ever be sorry.” He whispers soothingly, rubbing small circles on your back as you release a cry of relief.  
You’re no longer living in complete fear.  
He lets you go momentarily and you look around you. Gunfire still echoes around you, but all you can see are small heaps of white scattered in front of you outside the barracks. You look every way to see if there are any forms running, hiding, but you see nothing.  
“They... they can’t all be d-“ you begin to mutter, quickly standing up and grabbing your shoulder in pain. You were so distracted by everything that you completely forgot about being shot.  
“(Y/n), don’t-“ he tries to convince you, attempting to grab your hand but you run towards them. Your friends.  
You get close enough to see the small white dots grow to large bodies spotted with red. The once white nightshirts speckled with crimson in a sinister manner. You listen intently for any noises: morning, whimpering, crying. Anything.  
You run to the one closest to you. Her once bronze skin now dons a powdery looking pale, lips purple and eyes wide open and frozen looking at some invisible killer. She grips the rosary she wears between her bloodied hands. You quickly move your hands to her neck, fingers desperately searching for some sign of life. As you apply pressure to parts of her neck you helplessly pant as more blood pours from her mouth, open and frozen. It stains the pale skin in a horrifying way.  
“Lauren... lauren! Fuck!” You scream hysterically, cupping her face as you quickly stand up once again and go to the next body.  
Although she was already pale before, the stark white state of her skin is a horror. You can see the sound in her neck is no longer bleeding, and she is surrounded by a large puddle of maroon. Her arms clutch her wound, but her eyes and mouth are closed. You once again move your hand frantically to her neck, but feel no familiar thumping.  
“Fuck! Kelsey! Fuck!” You release an animalistic cry as you see your closest friend’s body in the distance. Is she breathing?  
“No no no no no, Danny, nooooo...” you pant as you run to her.  
You sprint to where she is slumped, cold hands clutching a stomach wound that is, again, no longer bleeding. You look in horror at her brown eyes, looking up at the sky. Her nearly shaved head tilted back. Her skin is still the beautiful black, smooth look it usually is, but it’s all wrong.  
You check for a pulse but feel none.  
Grabbing her hand, sticky with blood, you hunch forward in sorrow. Everyone you’ve ever known is gone. There is no one left for you.  
“Fuck. Danny, what do I do?” You cry, voice cracking as you grip her hand tightly.  
You flinch when you feel a hand grip your good shoulder.  
“Come with me.” You hear Negan gently coax you as you let go of Danny’s frigid hand.  
“I should check the other girls! They might be al-“  
“My men already did.” He states somberly, looking to you with sorry eyes.  
“Well what about inside, there were other girls that were sold th-“  
“We already stormed the buildings, sunshine. We didn’t find any survivors.”  
Your head falls in your hands, mixed with your blood and others. You finally break down and release all the tears you’ve held. All the times you’ve stayed strong. All the times Tony touched you. When your friends were sold. Charlotte. Emily. Laura. Kelsey. Danny.  
The cry you unleash is closer to a wounded animal than a human. It’s scratchy and raw. You collapse on all fours as you continue wailing helplessly.  
You suddenly feel yourself being picked up, your injured shoulder cradled as you are slumped over Negan’s shoulder. You watch the teardrops fall from your chin and roll down the leather, creating odd patterns as the take the dust away in a straight path.  
“It’s alright, sunshine. Everything is gonna be alright. I mean it.” He soothes, a hand placed around your legs as the other holds his bat. You watch as the heaps of white become blurry. The gunfire fades in the distance and blends to form a gentle hum. Negan’s men run in front of you, but you cannot distinguish one person from another as they all combine as spots dance in your vision. Your eyes flutter as the world fades to black.


	3. Okay

You wake up to the rumbling of an engine and realize you’re in a truck. Negan’s truck. Your body has been carefully placed in the front seat, seatbelt in place securely and avoiding the wound near it. Your shoulder twitches in pain and you scrunch your eyebrows in agony as your memory kicks in. You feel a unique heaviness around your shoulders and look to see what it is. A once white tourniquet wraps around your arm and shoulder, engulfing you as it clings to you with maroon patches to stop the blood. Negan’s black leather jacket is thrown atop it, wrapped around your shoulders to keep you warm. It’s a kind gesture you are not exactly used to, and you shift underneath the heat it provides. You peek one eye open to see a different jacket on your legs. It feels like denim, and it’s placed over your opened legs to preserve your modesty. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion and embarrassment.  
“I know you’re awake, sunshine.” Negan mumbles.  
You immediately close your eye and freeze in a panic, pretending to be asleep.  
“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk. Not yet, at least. I just want to know if you’re okay.” He apologetically questions.  
You think about your response.  
Of course I’m not okay. I’ve lost everyone I care about. Everyone I know is dead. Everyone I’ve loved is dead. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to everyone.   
“I’m fine.” You whisper, voice scratchy and rough from pain.  
He sighs deeply as you turn your head to look at him. It’s dark outside, but the headlights cast running thin shadows of trees over his face.   
“You were never a good liar, hon.” He sighs.  
You take a moment to breathe and collect your words as you take in his honesty.  
“I just don’t know what to think. I tried not to get close with any of the girls so they wouldn’t be upset if I died. I just kinda expected to be the next one to go I guess, and now I’m the only one left...” you numbly state, eyes looking into nothingness ahead of you.  
You watch the dim lighting from the car reveal a dirt pathway, overgrown of course with branches of trees and roots. The trees on both sides of you are comforting in an odd way. At least something is still living among the dead.  
Silence falls in the car before it jerks as the wheels roughly maneuver on a root. The seatbelt brushes harshly against your wound and you cry out in suffering as you close your eyes.  
“Sorry, hon. We’re almost home.” He empathetically coos as you look to him in deep thought.  
“Where exactly is home?” You curiously ask.  
“The sanctuary. It’s a haven for hard workers and good people.”  
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” You sarcastically mutter to yourself in anger as you have a flashback to what they told you when entering Camp Mercy.   
-

You were in the city streets, littered with dirty cans and boxes. You could see the city had been almost picked clean, the once pristine and polished windows decorated in fancy writing were now completely desecrated. The glass was shattered and speckled with maroon blood everywhere. The stores that managed to have some window fronts remaining were covered in graffiti indicating various supposed ‘safe places’ and meet up grounds for survivors.  
You had come along a mysterious man as you were scavenging, and you could vaguely hear him talking as you sifted through the run down town.  
‘It’s called Camp Mercy. We work hard here for our shit. If you give a hundred perfect and get along with our people, you’ll be alright. We’re all kin here. It’s good people. It’s good care.’   
Tony explained this with a smile and gleeful tone as you considered his offer. He seemed like an alright person. You were without people for a long time, and you needed to be a part of something desperately. You don’t really know what this place is, but it doesn’t sound too bad.  
You looked towards him as you walked through the aisles of shelves and out the broken front door, following his lead.  
‘Could I see what it looks like before I make a decision? I kind of like to double check to be sure I’m not going to be with crazy people, ya know.’ You jokingly declare as you put your hand on your hips, him standing in front of you proudly.  
‘Understandable, it’s just around the corner if you’ll follow me.’ He happily leads you along and motions to a corner of a street. He gestures around the corner and you take the lead in front as you round the side, finally taking in what he’s motioning to.  
You only see a broken down wooden house, the brown paint chipped and worn. The windows have been shattered, the shutters blown helplessly and broken. The door is cracked open with splinters everywhere and it ominously swings open and closed in the wind. You scrunch your eyebrows and squint your eyes in confusion as an odd feeling settled deep in your gut.  
Can this really be it?  
Hearing feet shuffle, you turn around curiously to see Tony standing with another man. He’s wearing a plaid shirt and jeans, and is sporting an odd smirk. You look to see Tony wearing a similar expression of dominance.  
‘I... I don’t understand. Where is it?’ You question, voice filled with fear and confusion as you try to think of an escape.   
You feel a sharp pain in your back as a set of hands holds your waist. You turn your neck to see another man behind you, a look of concentration evident in his features. You release a cry of pain as he makes a jerking motion and holds up an empty syringe.   
You watch as Tony and the other man both approach you. You can no longer feel your body as an unfamiliar numbness spreads through your muscles. The man behind you catches your limp body as your legs completely give out. Your muscles are completely weakened, and you feel like a puppet with the strings cut suddenly, limp and powerless.  
You helplessly fall into the man’s arms and look up to see Tony standing above you with a sinister grin.  
“Get her to the truck, boys. I think we got a good one here.” He adds with a cocky grin.  
The man beside Tony lifts your legs and you feel yourself being carried before your memory fades.

-  
“Hey, we aren’t like those camp assholes, alright? Don’t talk like that.” He adds, tone serious and angry as he focuses on the road.  
“I-I’m sorry.” You stutter anxiously, avoiding his gaze.  
Negan almost responds before he sighs and runs a hand over his beard.  
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just not used to this.”   
“Used to what?”  
“Usually someone else helps the survivors and I look go after the leader. Scavenge for things.”  
“Why didn’t you?”   
“Well, you’re a special circumstance. It’s not often ya see someone from your past, especially alive.”  
You raise your eyebrows as if to agree with his point, and notice as a silence fills the car once again.  
Your hand brushes against the denim jacket, and you look to him in confusion.  
“Whose jacket is this?” You ask, voice small.  
“Dwight, he’s my right hand man.” He answers enthusiastically.  
“I just feel bad. He didn’t have to do that, I’m used to wearing much less and-“ You cut yourself off numbly as you think back to the camp. Clothes weren’t exactly a priority there and then men definitely did not feel obligated to provide much for you; in fact, they reveled in the fact that they saw you in as little as possible. I mean Tony would more than often cut some of your clothes off just to get a look at yo-  
“Hey, where did you go?” He quickly asks, voice soothing you.  
“Before Mercy? Well, we started near school b-“  
“No, I mean just now.” He calmly asks you, eyes staring deep into yours, imploring for honesty about your mind wandering tendencies.   
“Ya know, I just kinda thought back to the camp and what Tony would make us wear sometimes.” You numbly state, looking straight ahead.  
You hear Negan release a deep exhale next to you and you can feel his eyes searching you for any sign of emotion.  
“Wanna talk about it?” He sadly questions, voice even as he focuses once again on the road ahead.  
You shake your head no as you turn to stare out the window again, lifting a hand to rest your chin upon.  
You’ll have plenty of time to talk, but not now.


	4. Pep Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan hypes you up before you go inside.

You jolt awake as a loud banging sound fills your right ear canal. The hand gently resting underneath your chin reels away in fear and freezes. You release a gasp of fear and surprise at the initial noise but try to lessen your tension when you realize it was Negan knocking at your window. You hadn’t even known you’d fallen asleep.  
He furrows his eyebrows in a sort of pitiful way, and you give him a look of apology as you begin to stretch your body awake.  
He opens the truck door gently and you slide your legs to the side, preparing to jump down- that is- until he lifts you. You were too distracted looking at the multicolored gravel a few feet down that you had hardly noticed Negan’s hands snake around your hips. You’re halfway to the ground before you begin gently apologizing once again.  
“Sorry, coach, sir, I was just dis-“  
He immediately cuts you off with a peck on your cheek.   
“Don’t worry about it darlin, and like I said, call me Negan.” He smiles softly to try to ease you into comfort. He reaches for the denim jacket that had been covering your legs and hands it back to the man that is now passing alongside Negan. Negan mutters a quiet thanks with a pat on the back to the man as he readjusts his leather jacket around you. It’s practically eating you alive, but in a comfortable way.  
“I forgot, I’m sorry.” You once again gently apologize and silently chastise yourself for apologizing. You grab onto his jacket and wrap it around you, concealing as much of yourself as you can, attempting to ignore the spatters of blood and dirt on your white tunic beneath.  
He laughs gently as he puts a hand at the small of your back, gently leading you alongside him. He begins noticing your discomfort of your clothes from the camp.  
“Don’t worry, we’ll get ya all cleaned up and give you brand new clothes. You can pick what you wanna wear, we got all kinds of things. You don’t have to wear that creepy little nightgown anymore.” He explains, trying to ease the tension.  
You look down at your nightgown and frown as you remember the origin of each patch of ruin. Blood from your friends. Blood from him. Blood fr-  
“You’re still the same since high school, aren’t you?” He jokes as you follow him to a large, rough looking building. It doesn’t look shabby, but it looks mean. Intimidating. It looks like it could crush your soul. Luckily, it looks nothing like Camp Mercy, because there’s actually a sign here for this place. When you entered the other one, there was no real sign, no slogan. You felt like you were entering an unmarked grave there. Little did you know, you basically were entering an unmarked grave, because it was practically the equivalent of a death camp, just more pristine on the outside. You would have b-  
“Where you goin hun?”   
You blink your eyes rapidly and gently shake your head from side to side as you snap out of your flashback. You exhale loudly as you close your eyes and hold back your emotions. It’s over now. Camp Mercy is behind you.  
“You alright?” He asks seriously, stopping to put both hands on your shoulders. He’s looking deep into your eyes now, genuinely worried about you. You haven’t felt anyone be concerned about you since before the camp.  
“It’s- just an adjustment...” you begin gently, finding your voice, “I’m grateful. Very grateful. I just don’t know how to feel normal again after... Mercy. I forget how things work.”   
“Things work?” He questions, pushing deeper to understand.  
“Things. People, good people. I forget how people are supposed to be. The only kindness at Mercy was a quick bullet to the head. I don’t know how people are supposed to treat me anymore. I forget what... kindness is. What decency is... I just don’t remember. I’ve lost myself. I forget who I was before this.” You sadly explain, looking at the gravel and dirt beneath your feet.  
“Well it’s gonna be hard at first, it’s gonna fucking suck for you.” He begins.  
“This is the worst pep talk ever.” You sarcastically state, raising an eyebrow mockingly.  
“What I meant to say, smart ass,” he grins playfully as he squeezes your shoulders, “is that it’s gonna be rough at first. No ones gonna be the same after that. No one. You’ll find the pieces that matter the most, and lose the ones that need to be left behind. You’ll gain ones here to connect to the old, and you’ll be better than you were there. That place wasn’t good for you. I hope you won’t be the same as you were there. I hope you left some of yourself there... the person I saw scrambling on the ground in a dirty nightie.... it wasn’t you. You looked like an animal that had been locked in a cage. You deserve to find something here, find yourself here.” He trails off as you look at the building, still as intimidating as before. You continue looking down to avoid eye contact.  
“I just don’t have anything to offer, the other girls could have much more t-“  
“You have a lot to offer. You’re here for a reason. Jesus, you’re the only one from there to be here. That’s gotta mean somethin. The big man upstairs has plans for you,” he smirks as he lifts your chin up to look at him, “and so do I.”  
You smile gently as he begins to lead you to the building. You look behind you to see gates, high and silver, dividing the hell of the outside world from this haven. Your breathing rapidly increases as you notice people beginning to walk in and out of the doors, immediately taking notice of you. You must be a sight to see, wearing the boss’ jacket, bloody clothes and most likely a face with dirt and blood. Eyes widened in fear and anxiety. Hair a tangled mess still.  
A man begins to approach with a mean looking machete and you stop in your tracks. Negan continues for a few steps before noticing your absence and turning around. The man continues approaching, eyes dead set on you, and you feel yourself instinctively back away slowly. Negan watches your face with a horrified expression as he tries to figure out what’s wrong before he notices the machete.  
“Hey, John, drop the knife.” Negan commands, furrowing his eyebrows as the man obeys.  
“Negan, sir, I was sent to see to the new resident.” He nervously adds, weapon a few feet away on the dirt.  
“I’ll get it, no biggie, you just go back to the woodshop for now.” Negan states, waving him away with the move of his hand.  
You watch as the man named John turns and picks up his weapon once more, dusting it off on his denim pants. It glimmers in the dim lighting, a gleam reflecting off the sinister tip of the blade, and you’re mesmerized by it.  
“I’ll give you the full tour tomorrow, you’ve had a long ass day. That sound good?” He asks, and you nod your head in agreement as your stomach growls. Negan immediately brings his hand to snack himself on the forehead.  
“Fuck, you have to be hungry. When did you last eat?”   
You think back to the night before.  
“They fed us a few minutes before you came.” You state calmly.  
“What did you eat?”  
“A- a grape.”   
“Alright, time for a late dinner.” He laughs as he guides you to the doors of the sanctuary. You hover before the doors gently, dizzy and off balance in both your nervousness and hunger. Negan passed you and holds the door open, motioning for you to come inside. You cross the threshold and step on the firm concrete.


	5. Penne

The strong, fresh smell of garlic hits your nose when you push open the heavy gray doors that lead to the cafeteria. The darkness in the room is overwhelming, dim lights in the distance barely providing enough brightness for you to avoid tripping over tables and chairs. Your mouth immediately waters when the scent of garlic grows stronger, and you swallow dryly as your stomach growls. You visibly jump when the lights flash on with an echoing click, sending Negan into a fit of laughter as you turn to see him holding the light switch with a grin.  
“Jesus Christ, you think we eat in the dark? It’s just the lights.” He playfully kids as he strides towards you confidently, laying a protective hand at your mid back. He begins leading you to where the dim lights were, and you see the once familiar metallic refrigerators that were in school. Those big, silver units held so much food, and you can’t believe that it’s one of the many at this place. You can see a pantry door open, various types of granola bars and ingredients strewn about, organized on layers of shelves. You almost cry out with joy at the sight of food.  
Genuine food.  
Food that isn’t rotting and moldy.  
“Hon, your jaw is on the floor, you might wanna pick that up.” Negan teases. You were unaware that your mouth was hanging wide open from the shock and awe of the kitchen, and you quickly close it as your cheeks flush in embarrassment.  
“What ya cravin, sunshine?” He asks, genuinely happy to have you fed.  
“I’ve never seen this much food... in years...” you trail off, looking at all the options.  
You hear Negan sigh as he looks at your thin, malnourished frame. Overworked and underfed, you didn’t have time for the frivolous details of worrying about your appearance. As you look in the metallic gleam of the fridge, you can briefly see what appears to be your reflection.   
Your hair is thin, long, but incredibly thin. The weight loss and stress had obviously taken its toll on your body, the less important things dying first before your body shut down. Your eyes and cheeks had sunken in, dark circles underlining your hollow points. Your cheekbones practically jut out, nose thin and prominent. The once adorable chubbiness of your cheeks are gone, turning your once cherubic, childlike appearance into one of maturity and an almost rigid aspect. You hadn’t noticed that blood stained your face, stripes of thin maroon crossed your cheeks, forehead, and nose. A handprint of blood is above your eyebrow, another smeared one on your neck and chin. You touch it gingerly, confused. It begins to crackle away as you run a finger over it, searching for a wound. It is only then that you realize it isn’t your blood decorating your body.  
Although your skin was tanned, there were freckles and sun spots from countless hours in the unforgiving heat, skin dry and crackled without moisture. Your collarbones prominently stick out of your chest as do your ribs, prodding gently through your shirt in a sick display of starvation. Your once strong arms have almost nothing but skin, the once defined muscles stripped and nearly lifeless as they lay at your sides.   
You used to get teased for having a chest and butt in middle school, maturing easily before the other girls. It made you a target, but once every other kid hit puberty, the attention was diverted from you to real drama of other people (thankfully). You used to hate your body, wish your boobs and hips were gone, but now you wish you could have it all back. You hadn’t had a period for a long time, a sign of your body slowly dying. A constant message of the control they have over you. A symbol of your humanity being stripped away with everything else.  
Your white tunic is stained with blood and practically eats your body with how large it looks on you. You remembered a time where it once was snug, hugging the curves of your body and fitting rather decently. That time is far gone now.  
Your legs are thin and weak looking. Strong enough to keep you standing, but barely working enough to keep you alive. They were doing the bare minimum to save you from becoming another body in the pits.  
You gently turn your body this way and that, assessing your current state. He must have seen the horrific looks crossing your face as you analyze yourself, for he steps up behind you and puts his hands to steady your shoulders, now shaking in confusion and shock.  
“Now do you see why I didn’t recognize you at first? I’ve helped a lot of people, many near death or hungry, but damn you girls were in the worst shape possible. My guys were scouting the place and were convinced it was an anorexia treatment clinic that had somehow survived the apocalypse with how all you girls looked. It was sickening when I got the report and looked for myself. I wish that guy was alive just so I could kill him again.” He angrily looks off in the distance as a smirk forms on your face.  
“I probably look a lot different than I did in high school, huh?” You question rhetorically as he smiles.  
“You were always a skinny mini if I remember, running cross country and track...”  
“I wasn’t very good.” You add with a smile.  
“You always finished the race, and sometimes that’s what’s important, sweetheart.” He adds with a smile.  
“If only we had a fuckin dance team...” you smile as you remember your dance classes with fond memories.  
“We barely had the budget for floor hockey!” He chides in with a smile.  
“Excuses...”   
Your stomach angrily cries out again and Negan suddenly opens the pantry, searching for something until he pulls out a box of penne noodles.  
“You all used to do pasta nights before meets, right?” He curiously asks, eyebrows furrowed as he attempts to remember, shaking the box with a rattle.  
“Yeah, we did, I miss it.” You smile as you strut to where he’s standing.  
“We’ll get ready, sunshine, because I make a mean spaghetti and meatballs.”  
Your smile widens as you watch him turn on the stovetop, rummaging to find the ingredients for the task at hand.  
“Go sit down in a chair and rest, I’ll get it ready and wake ya if ya fall asleep.” He adds with a wink and you leave the kitchen and reach a table. You set five chairs together to form a makeshift bed and lay across them. It’s slightly uncomfortable, but knowing you’re in a better place makes you feel at ease, muscles relaxing easily to pull you into a light nap.


	6. There Are More

*THUMP THUMP THUMP*  
Your neck snaps up in fear as you jerk awake from a light sleep, hair splayed across your back messily as it falls down from flying upwards when you panicked. You blink a few times, raising your eyebrows in surprise as you see Negan holding two plates, both piled high with noodles and red sauce. You smile as you watch the steam rise gently from the food, the sweet smell of garlic hitting you once again, droplets of drool forming in your mouth.  
“Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He calmly states as he sets your plate down with a clink. You hear a harsh sound of something scraping the floor and realize he’s scooting the wooden bench backwards to make room for himself as he sits beside you. You politely wait for him to get situated as you stare longingly at the hot meal in front of you. You lick your lips in desire as the metal fork sits tauntingly in front of you.  
“Go ahead, hon, I know you’re starving.” He chuckles as you immediately grab the fork and dig in as soon as the sentence is finished. You pile a large amount on your fork, the bright red sauce splashing onto your white clothes clumsily but you don’t care; all you care about is shoveling as much spaghetti on your mouth as you can.  
You sigh in relief and contentment as the flavor coats your tongue, noodles hanging lazily out of your mouth as you close your eyes and gulf the forkful down quickly.  
You can vaguely hear him laughing as you repeat the motions over and over again, barely stopping to breathe in between each mouthful. Negan finally begins to eat, but you have already finished as he takes his second bite.  
“Well holy fuckin shit, hon, I didn’t know you were THAT hungry.” He mutters, impresses at your quickness.  
“I told you... I was hungry.” You smirk as you raise an eyebrow and look into his gentle eyes.  
He raises his hand to your face and swipes his thumb along the underside of your lip, catching drops of marinara sauce along his finger with a grin.  
“You’re a fuckin mess, huh?”   
“In more ways than you know.” You state sarcastically, rolling your eyes at the truth beneath it.  
He raises his eyebrows in a sigh, knowing deep down that there’s more beneath the surface of that comment, but he doesn’t push further.   
“So judging by the way people look at you and respect you, you’re obviously more than a sports coach here, huh.” You continued, trying to learn how much has changed in his aspect.  
“Well, I am a big part of this place.”   
You jump as his bat taps the ground adamantly and he sighs, bringing his hand to rub at his eyes.  
“I’m sorry, hon. I forget where you come from. You know you haven’t escaped telling me about this camp right?”   
You shrug, dreading the eventual and inevitable conversation of the details of your stay.   
“There’s not much else to say. Those guys are all gone. Dead. It doesn’t matter anymore.” You mutter, looking down at his feet.  
“It obviously does if-“ he hits the ground again with the edge of his bat and you flinch hard, “that... does that to you. It’s not over yet.” He whispers gently, watching your reaction to his words.  
“I don’t wanna t-“  
“I get that now, but we need to know more about these guys: how they operate, where they kidnap, how they kidnap...”  
“Why does that matter? What does any of that have to do with me?”  
He sighs deeply and puts his head into both of his hands, groaning in aggravation as he takes his fingers down his face.  
“You’re not gonna like what I have to say.” He mumbles.  
You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion and narrow your eyes as you nod for him to elaborate.  
“Camp Mercy isn’t the only sort of camp like this... there are others.”  
You feel your breath leave your lungs as if your body was being crushed. Your stomach turned over in fear and disgust. A lump forms in your throat and you attempt to swallow it, but it’s too dry, and you feel it thrumming in your windpipe. You can feel the sweat forming in your palms and on your chest, small beads forming between your breasts and sliding down your stomach. Feeling as if you can’t breathe, you begin to pant.  
“There’s... no way... that’s not possible.” You stutter, voice raspy and broken.  
“We found two others under different names, but they’re all the same type of labor and sex camp for women that they take. We think that they may know that there is a survivor... so you need to be under protection... just in case they may try to retaliate...”   
His words begin to fade from your ears, and you immediately feel lightheaded.  
“I’m sorry, I can’t-“   
You rush to stand, pushing the bench awkwardly as you nearly trip getting over it. Your breath hitches as your vision begins to blur, the lights above you now becoming blinding and blending together. You bring your hands to your face and jerk them back as you feel they are wet. You curiously look to see a translucent liquid on them and laugh, not realizing you were crying. You don’t know why, but you begin laughing, and lace your hands into your hair, gripping your brown locks with a steady hand.   
Negan is looking at you with fear and confusion. He begins to approach you, but you continue laughing, your high pitched voice echoing along the large cafeteria.  
Suddenly your legs give out and you fall hard to your knees. Your hands leave your hair and fall to the ground as well, grasping at the cool, hard flooring beneath you as your laughing turns to sobs. You lean your head down to rest against the floor, trying to alleviate the screaming in your with the chill of the floor. You feel the wetness slide down your cheeks and hit the floor in small drips.  
These men will kill you. You remember what they said. No witnesses. The fact that they think someone even escaped... you’ve seen what these men are capable of. Not to mention the fact that they are most likely taking it out on the women at their own camps...  
Your sobbing begins to turn to screaming and groaning as you think of the pain, humiliation, and death you’ve possibly brought to others by being rescued. No doubt they’re reprimanding them for you.  
You feel something touch your upper back and you crumble to the ground, looking between the hair in your face to see Negan standing above you, a grief stricken expression on his face.  
“I can’t fix this... it shouldn’t have been me that made it... it should have been someone stronger... someone that could help you... I’m nothing.” You cry out, tears pouring from you as you feel your body being lifted.  
Negan picked you up and is carrying you bridal style out of the cafeteria. You can feel his heart beating with how close you are to his chest, and you try to ground yourself once again. Your body begins trembling roughly, still hyperventilating, to the point of concern where Negan starts running with you in his arms.  
You eventually reach a room that he kicks open, hearing the crack of a lock breaking as he brushes through the door. He gently sets you on something you assume is a bed since it is so soft. You keep heaving your breaths as you attempt to breathe, your breath coming in and out in short rasps.   
He runs to the door and shouts a command for someone’s name, but you can’t hear it between your breathing. Someone immediately reaches the door and Negan mutters a command to him, again not as to hear.  
“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be alright.” He soothes, grabbing your face between his hands.  
“Wha- TS HA- ap- pp-eNING.” You awkwardly stutter/breathe out.   
“You’re having a sever panic attack. It’s going to be alright. Doc is coming to h-“  
Suddenly a man in a white coat rushes into the room with a shiny looking object poised in his hand. Squinting, you notice it’s a needle.  
You heart beats faster and you begin thrashing under Negan’s grasp as you remember the last few times a needle was used in the camp with you. As he holds you down you feel constricted to the point like you’re suffocating.  
“Hold her!” The doctor orders as he approaches, angling the syringe towards you.  
“Get oFF OF ME!” You scream, feeling overwhelmed.  
“Your heart rate is too out of control... I don’t want you to hurt yours-”  
“Hold her still!” The doctor adds with a hint of agitation as you thrash beneath Negan.  
You watch as Negan fully wraps his arms around your top half to hold you still and you look into his eyes, pleading for him to stop what’s going to happen.  
“Please...” you whisper, voice cracking with the word, a sob ripping through you as you feel a rough pinch in your right arm.  
“Ow...” is all you can muster before your vision begins to blacken, your body begins to relax in his arms.  
You give him a look of betrayal as you begin to fall unconscious, and you can see the sadness and apology in his eyes as you feel your body become numb.  
As he holds your body to him, the last thing you hear him say is a small, “I’m sorry”.


	7. Cotton

Your eyes flutter open gently. A thin layer of blurriness stays in your vision, a constant daze-like glare running over the features of the room.   
A cotton colored wall greets you, not stark white like hospitals but a more soothing, soft color. Similar to the walls, your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton. The dryness of your throat hits you, and you open and close your mouth desperately, feeling the stickiness of the little saliva remaining. The room smells like eucalyptus, the green, earthy smell filling your nostrils as you take a deep breath. You hold it in your lungs for four seconds, remembering your breathing exercises they taught you in health class. You can feel the air caught in your body, a relaxing control that you have over yourself. Your heart beats steadily as you count the four heartbeats, slowly drumming inside of your chest. The soft sheet overtop is your chest thrums in rhythm with your beating heart. You then release it, feeling your rib cage open up and letting all your tension go. The sheet falls heavily as you let go of the air, a soft hushing noise filling the air.  
“You awake, sunshine?” A gruff voice enters your space suddenly, and your body jerks to the left towards the source. You blink rapidly a few times, clearing the blur of your vision as you focus on the figure to the side of your bed. Sitting in a wooden chair is Negan, legs separated to each side of the chair with elbows placed on each leg, hunching down as if to look at you closely. His expression softens as he notices your steady breathing.  
“No more needles.” You state apathetically, voice cracking from dryness as you pull the sheet closer to your body, needing the safety and closeness it provides you. You look under it to see a nice robe, a soft, plush gray robe encircling your tiny body. You look confused until he begins to speak.  
“I um, changed your clothes for you, the nightgown was old and dirty,” he looks down at the ground and folds his hands over each other, “I figured you wouldn’t miss it, so I got you some new clothes.” He casually retorts.  
You look down in embarrassment as you notice that you aren’t wearing any bra or underwear underneath the robe, your face reddening in fear and utter embarrassment.  
“You... changed my clothes...” you ask in confusion and sadness.  
He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion and tries to explain before you cut him off.  
“I don’t want anyone to see me. Not even you. I don’t look... okay. I don’t look like myself. I don’t want anyone to see me.” You shake your head in sadness and panic as he looks at you in an even deeper level of confusion.  
“I didn’t want any strangers to see you like that, I thought it’d be best if I did it instead of a random considering your history.” He confides, looking into your eyes and searching for any sign of positive emotion.  
“I don’t want anyone to touch me... it’s just like he...” you zone, remembering when Tony would constantly and sporadically run a hand over you while you were working or come into the dorm to touch girls while they slept. He would occasionally snake a cold, clammy hand over your calf muscle and you’d clench your eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. Pretending to be somewhere else completely as his fingers would linger over your skin, turning sweaty from fear.   
A deep breath brings you back to the moment as you feel a hand touch your left, uninjured shoulder. You gasp from the flashback, eyes closing for a minute to ground yourself to the present.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“ you cut yourself off as you focus on yourself.  
“Don’t be sorry, I should have asked you first, I just figured you wanted out of that gown as soon as possible.” He empathetically states, getting up from the chair and inching close to you.  
“It’s alright, Negan,! I just... I don’t know. Where’s the gown?” You ask suddenly.  
“It’s in my office, I was gonna have it thrown away... nothing good can come of that dress, if you can even call it that...” He trails suspiciously, searching your features for any indication on where your train of thought is going.  
“I want to see it.” You state suddenly and seriously, looking into his eyes in confirmation of your wish.  
“Sunshine, I don’t know if it’s a good idea for you to-“   
“I want,” you emphasize the word want, “to see it.” You state in the same tone.  
He raises his eyebrows suddenly and heads towards the door.  
“Alright, I’ll get it for ya. If ya want you can get clothes on. Stuff is in the dresser.” His eyes point to a brown looking piece of furniture with many drawers and he turns to look back at you. “Are you sure you wanna see that thing again?” He asks, voice filled with worry and uncertainty.  
“Yes.” You answer confidently, and he shoots you a friendly smile as he heads out the door, closing it behind him.  
Next: clothes.


End file.
